


The Dragon of the West Returns

by gaydaractivate04



Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [6]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Badass Katara (Avatar), Badass Zuko (Avatar), Comfort, Fire Lord Zuko, I had less names to come up with, Interrogation, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Protective Iroh (Avatar), Protective Katara (Avatar), Reunions, Shovel Talk, Sokka is Nervous, gently of course, thanks MuffinLance for the crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaractivate04/pseuds/gaydaractivate04
Summary: The Dragon of the West has returned to the Fire Nation capital, after spending the first few years of his nephew's reign at sea, cleaning up Ozai's legacy.He returns, and finds his nephew happy, healthy, and enamored with one Ambassador Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.It was only a matter of time before he met the young man himself, and he does not plan to waste the opportunity.OrSokka and Zuko have grown much closer over the last few weeks, in the wake of their conversation. Iroh and Katara? They've noticed.
Relationships: Iroh & Sokka (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar)
Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793116
Comments: 37
Kudos: 302





	The Dragon of the West Returns

**Author's Note:**

> Passed all my finals, stressed about final grades anyways. Ah, the American school system. It's pretty great, isn't it?
> 
> In this one: Iroh and the Crew returns, we get brief insights of what they've been doing, and both Iroh and Katara decided to interview their respective family members' chosen partners.
> 
> By interview, I mean both indirectly and directly threaten.
> 
> Enjoy!

The meeting was going well -- far better than the previous one, at least. The Minister of Education was finally giving ground, his papers crumpled at the edges as he scowled and glared, not daring to challenge the leader of his nation.

It had been three years since the drastic changes had begun, since Zuko had taken the throne and set to building a better foundation for the Fire Nation, and Minister Homura was only just considering changes to the curriculum where it concerned the Water Tribes. For some reason, selling him on the culture of the Earth Kingdom had been much easier.

Zuko would have fired him long ago, if not for the extensive knowledge the man had, having been in his position for a good twenty years. 

Any replacements he’d interviewed were either too inexperienced or with the belief that Zuko did not deserve his position.

After six months of fruitless attempts to find a suitable stand-in, Zuko gave in and turned back to his original strategy -- wear Minister Homura down. At the very least, the man cared for the children and the quality of their education.

_ If he could just get over his imperialistic views, the pedestal he stood on would be much shorter. _

Minister Homura has just finished wrapping up his speech, about the  _ “rudimentary quality of their buildings and clothing, their techniques for healing seem to be the only notable advancement they’ve made -” _ when a knock came at the door.

Zuko didn’t think he hid his sigh of relief as well as he thought, if the smile from Chen, who stood at the other end of the room, was anything to go by.

“Enter,” called Zuko, straightening from where he stood, bent over the revised curriculum plans. They were disappointing, to say the least, bordering on insulting, every word condescending to the culture of the Southern Water Tribe.

The doors opened promptly, as they always did, admitting a servant girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. She kept her gaze trained on the floor as she approached, stopping a good five feet from Zuko’s chair.

Everytime a member of the palace staff quailed before him, with white knuckles and bowed shoulders, Zuko had to resist the urge to burn what little remained of his father’s reign, portraits packed tightly into a store room.

Sadly, burning things and stomping around was unlikely to soothe any scared servants.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, for interrupting. Your uncle has returned, along with the crew of the Wani.” The girl’s voice was soft, hesitant, and Zuko was so caught up in trying to figure out how to ensure she knows she’s safe that it took a moment to process the words.

“Uncle Iroh is here?” He had to double check, had to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him -

“He’s been shown to your dining room, for a late breakfast,” answered the girl, still staring at the ground, though she glanced up for a moment at the  _ disbelief _ in his tone.

Zuko took a moment to gather himself, hands moving on autopilot as he stacked and straightened his papers. He could see in the faces around the table that his ministers didn’t expect him to go, that they thought he’d dismiss the servant and continue -

“I’m very sorry, Ministers,” said Zuko, and he meant not a word of his apology. “We’ll have to resume tomorrow. As you’ve heard, pressing matters have come up.”

He left his papers in their stack -- they always ended up in his office anyways. He strode to the doors, not giving the gathered men and women a moment to protest. Chen peeled off the opposite wall and followed, his smile successfully smothered.

“Oh -” Zuko paused at the doorway, turning back only long enough to speak. “Minister Homura. I hope you are aware that the palace’s library has a large amount of information on both tribes. It doesn’t seem that you used any of it in your initial plans. I expect them to be revised completely by the end of the week.”

Leaving behind a red faced minister, leaving behind a room full of politics, double meanings, and stubborn military minded officials, Zuko strode down the hallway, picking up his pace as the distance grew.

The servant was struggling to keep up, her head barely coming up to Zuko’s shoulders, her legs working as she half jogged. He decided to cut her loose -- there was no sense in forcing her to come along, when she was already so anxious in the presence of one powerful person.

Zuko slowed, glancing at the girl as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I want to be sure, but my crew is in my dining room?” When the girl nodded, he continued, hoping to stopper any apologies from her end. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

_ No luck, not when it came to apologies. _ “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry if I was rude in my interruption, I was sent to -”

“Please, you did nothing wrong.” He smiled at her, doing his best to convey  _ harmless  _ and _ happy _ thoughts in her direction. “I’m about to start running, and I didn’t want you to have to race after me.”

The servant seemed more at ease at that, even offering him a hesitant smile back. She nodded and stepped back, to the side of the hallway, offering a curtsy in farewell.

Zuko gave her nod in return, one far deeper than was acceptable to give to someone of her station, if her widening eyes were anything to go by, before taking off.

It was unseemly for a Fire Lord to run through his halls, top knot loosening and crown listing, but the staff of the palace had grown used to it during this new era of peace -- at least, they stopped assuming that he was running from an assassin, and instead jumped out of his way.

He heard Chen start after him, armour clanking, with a curse Zuko was sure he wasn’t meant to hear. After all, one doesn’t insult the Fire Lord in his earshot, not if they wish to see the next sunrise.

Luckily for his guard, the run to the dining hall was a short one and it was only a few minutes before Zuko slowed, not quite walking but no longer running, as he nodded at the sentries stationed outside the door.

The doors swung open far too slowly, but at the same time, they moved far faster than he was ready for. 

He stepped into the dining hall carefully, barely believing what he saw,  _ who _ he saw. Bright faces, standing from their seats, Lieutenant Jee with a smile on the edges of his lips, Hanako grinning fiercely beside Dekku and Genji, the rest of the crew beaming, and closest of all -

Uncle.

Zuko flung himself into the arms of the Dragon of the West and finally,  _ finally, _ felt at home. His uncle’s arms wrapped around him, gripping the tiniest bit  _ too tight _ but Zuko didn’t care. Uncle was here. Uncle was hugging him as he cried into his robes.

Uncle was crying too, shoulders shaking, and Zuko pulled back just enough to see his face, to see the smile breaking through the tears.

The last time they’d seen each other was over a year ago, when Uncle and the crew had been given a breather, after Ozai loyalists and their bases were taken down with ruthless efficiency, one by one.

The time before that, Zuko’s coronation and during his recovery, in those first, shaky months of his reign, still struggling to adjust to the  _ feeling of the sun in his soul. _

He felt his Uncle’s grip loosening, just the smallest bit, and stepped back, wiping at his face with his sleeves. The damp embroidery would give his attendants a heart attack later, but at the moment he didn’t care.

“I’m- I’m  _ so _ glad you’re here,” Zuko said, voice breaking in the middle of his sentence, despite his best attempts to keep it steady.

Uncle Iroh smiled back at him, one hand a reassuring weight on Zuko’s shoulder. He’d forgotten -  _ Agni, how could he have forgotten? _ \- how much he needed his uncle, how  _ relaxed _ he was simply by being in his uncle’s presence.

“We’re here to stay, now.” Uncle’s voice was gentle, eyes soft as Zuko met his eyes.

_ To stay? _

Jee chimed in, shifting where he stood a few steps behind Uncle Iroh. “We’re confident we raided and destroyed every loyalist base that remains, and the Kiyoshi warriors have taken on the assignment to make sure they don’t resurface.”

Always so militaristic, Lieutenant Jee, with his reports and ramrod straight posture. Despite the detached manner of words, the lieutenant gave Zuko a solid nod and smile over Iroh’s shoulder -- practically a grin from the man.

Dekku had no such qualms, pulling Zuko into a hug, one tight enough that he flailed, panicked, for a moment, before his brain caught up with his instincts and he waved a concerned Chen off.

The ship’s cook pulled back, lifting Zuko’s arms as he eyed him, up and down. “Are they feeding you here?”

A drawn out sigh sounded from the back of the room, the speaker hidden behind Dekku’s form but voice recognizable. Genji, Dekku’s husband. “That’s all he talked about for the last hour of our trip.” Then, to his husband: “He’s the Fire Lord,  _ of course _ he’s being fed.”

Laughter rang out through the room and Zuko was  _ home. _

Somehow, they found themselves seated around the breakfast, soft cushions providing comfort at the low table. Zuko found himself smiling as food was served, so wide his cheeks hurt, as he exchanged greetings and jokes with the rest of his crew. As he looked over his family, whole and safe and together.

Engineer Hanako as she gestured with a chopstick, graphically describing a story from her hometown, to the horror of Pikesman Kazuto and delight of Teruko, the former sergeant cackling loudly at every word.

Dekku and Genji, side by side, as the pair always was, Genji subtly -  _ at least, he thought he was subtle, everyone knew _ \- passing the best looking food onto his husband’s plate.

Helmsman Kyo and Doctor Satomi talking quietly, likely about Kazuto if Kyo’s blush and the elbows he jabbed into Satomi’s side were anything to go by.

Iroh was beside Zuko, carefully pouring a pot of tea -  _ jasmine, as was requested _ \- while deep in conversation with Jee, alternating words with sliding food onto Zuko’s plate, as if he wouldn’t notice.

He appreciated the way none tried to draw him into conversation -- not yet, at least. He never liked being the center of attention, liked to observe and gather his thoughts, adjust to the situation.

They gave him about five minutes to take it in, an unusual amount of restraint for his crew, especially when it came to what they called ‘palace gossip’.

Uncle was the first to inquire after anything, and it was about exactly what he’d expected. “I’ve heard that ambassadors arrived, the Avatar and his companions. How are the revisions going?”

_ How his uncle had even heard that, Zuko didn’t know, he’d long since stopped questioning the sources of the Dragon of the West. _

“Things are going...well,” he began, and it was true. They were actually going  _ good, _ far better than had been expected. No vivid death threats, no actual assination attempts, just discussion of them. “New representatives are set to arrive by the end of month, and they aren’t very happy about that.”

He saw the way his uncle’s attention caught on his hesitation, a bloodhound sniffing out falsehoods before they could form. Thankfully, Zuko was not questioned about it.

Instead, Teruko picked up the reins of the conversation, leaning forward, ignoring the offended squawk from Hanako as she blocked the other’s food-to-mouth path. “What are they like? Are they as powerful as the rumors say?”

Just like that, Zuko was off. Describing the uncanny way Master Beifong can see  _ everything, _ can hear through walls. How Katara’s healing instinct extends to most around her, but hurt or offend or -  _ Agni forbid _ \- threaten one of her friends and the rivers in her eyes harden to ice.

He tells his family about the Avatar, the kid he never hunted, the child he was meant to deliver to his father, and the unshakable optimism he carries with him. The way his steps barely touch the ground, as if he refuses to be tied to the ground.

And he speaks about Sokka, the nonbender from the Southern Water Tribe and how he’d brought a sword with him, how Zuko hopes to spar with him and see how another student of Piandao matches up, how he tripped and fell on top of him in the turtleduck pond -

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been talking about Sokka until Hanako interrupts him, laughing, a look on her face like the holidays had come early.

“Sounds like you really want to have a nighttime  _ spar _ with him, yeah?”

It takes a moment for his brain to realize what she means, the innuendo sailing overhead before he catches it. “I mean, nighttime would be kinda -  _ hey.” _

Zuko only hoped the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

He doesn't think his wish came true -- his uncle is looking at him, an  _ intrigued _ expression on his face. “It would be nice to meet such an esteemed young man, especially one part of my nephew’s life.”

  
  


_______________

  
  


Sokka got the invitation to tea with the Dragon of the West while all the others were out, leaving him the only occupant of the room.

_ (He’d later come to wonder if that was purposeful and, if so, how it was achieved.) _

He and his friends, as official ambassadors of their respective peoples, were not prisoners. They had the liberty to move about the palace, explore public rooms, research in the expansive library, shelves crowded with scrolls and so high you can barely see the tops -- with a guard in their vicinity at all times.

It was unclear if these sentries were for their protection or general monitoring. Katara, despite the new leaf she seemed to have turned over in regards to the Fire Lord, scoffed and glared whenever the subject of their heavily armed shadows arose.

They all had different approaches to the constant presence of armed force -- Aang talked their ears off, almost  _ constantly  _ cheerful. Occasionally, the Avatar was lucky enough to hit a soft spot and find a guard who’d talk  _ with  _ him, despite their outwardly hard demeanor.

None of them are sure, Sokka included, how Zuko knows, but those few conversational guards are reassigned over and over for shifts with Aang.

Toph usually spent her time in the gardens, claiming that the palace and all its straight lines are boring -- dirt is better. She was, predictably, gently escorted to an open courtyard when she ruined one too many flower arrangements.

The earthbender had laughed in Katara’s face when his sister had suggested she come with her to the library -  _ where Katara was often found reading, when not practicing her bending, water whips snapping loud  _ \- and said she got bored so easily when reading. It just wasn’t really her thing.

Sokka, for his part, wandered the halls when not readying for meetings with Zuko, subtly examining the foundation and formation of the building -- the palace was a very strong structure, and he’d been working on strategies to shore up his tribe’s defenses for years.

Other times, he practiced - _ usually alone, once or twice with a willing guard _ \- his swordplay. When that became tiring, when he could barely raise his blade for another stroke and knees felt like they were about to buckle, he passed time doodling or napping in his rooms.

He spent far too much time in his rooms.

It is one of those times when the knock on the door came, an irreplaceable scroll he’d liberated from the library weighed down across a table using candle holders, ready for reading.

Tui and La, there were so many candles in the palace.

Sokka waited for the person to open his door, rising from his hunched position over the text. He sat there for a good thirty seconds before realizing they were waiting for  _ him _ to answer.

Another things about palaces and royalty -- they always stand on ceremony. Servants and guards address you with honorific titles, they bow when greeting you -  _ he’d bowed back the first time and the servant, after a pause, had bowed again. It was awkward _ \- and wait for permission instead of barging into your living space.

On the other side of the door stood a household servant, one higher in the ranks, as the embroidered patterns on her sleeves indicated. She bobbed into a curtsy when she greeted him, her eyes cast to the ground.

“General Iroh has summoned you for tea. I will be back to escort you in a quarter hour.”

It was a short interaction, the woman turning and striding away before he could thank her, before he could do much else but gape. It was amazing how much a short sentence could shake you.

_ General Iroh has summoned you for tea. _

Great. Awesome. Sokka couldn’t wait to talk to him, he wasn’t worried.

Not worried at all.

He only hoped that Zuko was doing well -- the ruler had seemed happy that his uncle was coming home, during the rest of their talk in the garden. Apparently, the man was a saint who drank leaf juice like the world was ending and spoke in riddles.

Apparently, he’d saved Zuko’s life time and time again, and Sokka was glad to have the opportunity to talk to him, even if it was a daunting idea.

The quarter hour had likely been given to him so he’d have a chance to prepare, both physically and mentally.

He really wasn’t sure what to do, what to wear or what to say. At home, as rebuilding efforts grew in force and soldiers returned home, Sokka was reintroduced to the typical conduct around someone of higher rank, and found his tribe wasn’t one to stand on ceremony.

At home, the titles were ‘Chief’ and ‘Commander’. No fancy names or words or -  _ La save him _ \- specific bows for certain positions. There was a stronger sense of comradery, a stronger sense of  _ family. _

But, if it’s good enough for the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, it would hopefully be good enough for a general, even if that general was the Fire Lord’s uncle.

Sokka donned a fresh tunic, this one of a deeper color and better fabric, meant for courtley ceremonies, if any were to arise. He pulled his hair half up, allowing the few braids to hang loose, the beads at the ends clinking together.

_ Toph had returned his hair ties, a few nights before, anonymously, but he knew it had been her. They had dirt on them. _

He wore four beads -- three on one side and the fourth on the other. A dark blue bead for each member of his family, his mother and father and sister, and one the color of fresh snow for Yue.

A quarter hour passes very quickly when one is stressed and excited at the same time, the servant knocking on his door just as he dried his face, having splashed it with lukewarm water from a bedside basin.

The woman gave him a surprisingly judgemental once over when Sokka joined her in the hallway, her eyes flitting from dark threads edging his tunic to the braids and their adornments hanging loose.

She didn’t say a word. He must have passed the criteria.

  
  


______________

  
  


The room Sokka was led to was in a wing of the palace he’d never explored -- never permitted to, at least. The grand hallway that served as the entryway was manned by two of the most intimidating guards he’d seen at all times.

As he passed tapestries and complex ink portraits, he realized exactly  _ why. _ This wing served as the quarters for high ranking nobles, along with the Royal Family. And as an official guest of the Fire Nation, he was not to enter unless invited.

Sokka was invited.

They stop at a pair of nondescript doors -- as simple a pair that you’ll see inside a palace. The tops are rounded, meeting in a graceful arch, and the wood is stained a dark red, carvings of winding dragons on the edges, those colored slightly darker.

The sentries beside this door beckon the servant woman forward, one leaning forward to talk to her in low tones. It takes only a moment, then the sentry nods and his escort takes a step back, to the side.

Leaving the entryway clear for Sokka to approach, who takes an uncertain step closer, tempted to glance at the servant woman for guidance. He doesn’t; he doubts he’d receive any.

_ What am I supposed to do here? Can I go in? _

The other guard opened one of the doors before Sokka could voice any of his questions, looking him over with careful eyes as he passed. Even with ambassadors, the Fire Nation was so cautious, almost  _ paranoid. _

The man who sat at the table within was not what Sokka pictured as the Dragon of the West, the man who held the Siege of Ba Sing Se for six hundred days, who - along with the Fire Lord’s crew - managed to destroy Ozai’s connections and supporters.

He would have looked almost soft, his robes loose and no armor to be seen, if it wasn’t for the shrewd gaze he regarded Sokka with, looking him over before returning to his face, the welcoming smile with a sharp edge.

_ Do I bow? Roll over and show my belly? _

Sokka wasn’t sure where his station falls compared to that of a general’s, especially one was the older brother to the late, psychopathic Fire Lord and uncle to the current, much more sane one.

He bowed, just in case, carefully bending at the waist and counting to three in his head before straightening, hands touching in a sloppy impression of the flame he’s seen formed throughout many times throughout the three weeks he has been in the palace.

“General Iroh.” Sokka addressed him by his military title, not knowing if  _ prince _ was still applicable and not wanting to cause offense. “I am honored by your invitation.”

_ Be respectful. Good impressions only. _

Iroh’s face was unreadable, a careful mask of pleasantness. “Please, sit,” he said, after a pause, waving to the cushion across from him. 

Sokka couldn’t help but notice the General was not seated at the head -- neither of them were. There was no advantage to be had with the seating arrangement, and Sokka’s already large amount of respect grew tenfold with the gesture.

He nodded in response and joined the man at the table, taking his seat with a smile. There was a teapot in the center, two small cups beside it and he watched, fascinated, as Iroh wrapped his hands around the pot, exhaling slowly until steam came from the spout.

Warming up tea -  _ or food _ \- that had since cooled down.  _ Very  _ cool.

Sokka accepted the tea when it was offered -- he didn’t really care for tea but why in the world would he say no? He was trying to be  _ respectful. _

He sipped the tea, cautious of the heat. It was actually pretty good; for tea, at least. Back home, labrador tea was drunk both in enjoyment and when one was sick. Gran-gran had always had to force the mugs of it down his throat.

Tea  _ really _ wasn’t his thing.

“How have you been faring in the Fire Nation? I understand the warm weather can be hard to adjust to,” Iroh remarked, smiling as he sipped his own tea. “For me, it is a welcome change, after spending so long at sea, but it can be something to get used to.”

Sokka was nervous, he didn’t want to say anything wrong. But it was just - it was  _ just _ a question? Right? Just answer the question. That was all.

So, he talked. He talked about how while the weather  _ is _ nice, the first few days were very hard. The palace was so well ventilated, though, and the cool, rushing fountains dotted every corner of the place.

He talked about how easily defensible of a structure the palace is, with blind and tight corners, inner corridors that run parallel to the hallway -  _ the quickly concealed shock on Iroh’s face tells him he wasn’t supposed to notice those _ \- that enable firebenders and archers to attack through slits in the walls.

The entire construction is very impressive and complex, and he wondered out loud if they had any records from the original architect. Because Sokka would very much like to see them.

Sokka realized a moment too late what that sounded like, as if he was planning to attack the palace and  _ that’s _ why he was asking -- he scrambled to correct himself.

“My apologies, General Iroh, I didn’t mean to push or ask after what I should leave be. I was only -” Here, he stutters, unsure of how to continue, of what he wants to reveal.  _ Good impressions.  _ “I’ve been looking for effective strategies to reinforce my home’s defenses, that is all. Again, I’m sorry.”

Iroh waved his apologies away, a glint in his eye that Sokka can read. “You have no need to apologize, it is always nice to hear from someone with an interest in protecting their people. I can see why Zuko likes you.”

_ You can see...what? _

Sokka wasn’t actually sure what an aneurysm is, but he thought he might’ve been having one.

“Wha - he, um, he talked about me? To you?” 

He was reminded of the stories he heard from friends he made while traveling with Aang -- particularly one girl who bemoaned meeting her girlfriend’s parents, because she’d spilled her food and stuttered and said some embarrassing things on accident.

The girl had told him that meeting the parents was one of the most important moments at the beginning of a relationship.

He hadn’t just been making a good impression on Zuko’s uncle, the most affluent general and second most powerful leader in the nation, but also -  _ and more importantly _ \- on Zuko’s  _ remaining guardian. _

Sokka gave himself one moment, one single second to panic, to review every word that passed his lips throughout the whole meeting, to scrutinize every response he received, before pulling himself together.

He needed to be calm. He needed to make it to the end without fucking up.  _ Tui and La, that would be a miracle - _

“What is your impression of my nephew?”

Oh Spirits, this was one that was so easy to fuck up.

“Zuko is…” Sokka gathered his thoughts -- he needed to get them across correctly, he needed to express his  _ admiration _ without stumbling too much. “Zuko is stubborn, he holds strong on opinions and laws he lays down, but he considers other’s thoughts with more respect than you’d first think.”

He pauses, looking down at the now-empty tea cup in his hands, turning it between his hands. He thought of all the conversations he and Zuko had had in the last two weeks, while awaiting Iroh’s return, all the nightly excursions to the gardens and that one time Zuko walked him to his rooms after dinner -

“Zuko cares about his people. He cares about what happens to them and what they’ve experienced, especially the children and veterans.” Sokka smiled, pride welling up inside as he thinks. “He’s an amazing person, and the Fire Nation is lucky to have him at their helm.”

Iroh was nodding along and Sokka felt like he’d just passed a test, one he didn’t prepare to take, one he couldn’t see the questions for.

“Beware, Ambassador Sokka. Even the tamest dragon has claws. If one were to try to pierce the scales, they would be burned,” Iroh replied, his tone deceptively mild.

_ That was...threatening. _

He understood and nodded quickly. “I would never  _ dream _ of hurting Zuko. I’d sooner stab myself with my own sword. If I ever hurt him, I’d deserve what I got in return.”

Iroh responded with a dip of his head, a benign smile back in place on his face. The conversation shifted to a more innocent subject -- the recent changes in the Earth Kingdom’s government system, in an attempt to avoid future corruption.

Sokka had his hopes for the Earth King, now that he’d gone beyond the walls of his precious city, now that Long Feng and the Dai Li’s power had been diminished.

Time dragged, in a strange way, when you are talking to one of the most lethal individuals in a palace full of warriors. The conversation was both a blur and the longest Sokka had ever held, scrambling for subjects and opinions to fill the space.

He couldn’t tell you what they’d spoken about, not the ideas proposed, not the discussion of other rulers and their revisals. It was hard to concentrate on retaining information when he was already splitting his attention between not accidentally causing offense and speaking his thoughts coherently.

When the meeting came to an end -  _ the interview, for that was what it was _ \- Sokka said his goodbyes to Iroh, thanking him for taking time out of his day for such interesting conversation.

The servant who escorted him back to his rooms was a different one from before, the man’s face wrinkled and severe. He was thankful for the guidance; he wouldn’t have ever made it back his quarters without it.

Lanterns and tapestries passed in a faded smear, fountains bubbling in the midday sun as he entered his rooms, the door shutting behind him before he had a chance to thank the guard who opened it.

Aang and Toph were back as well, lounging in the sitting room -- directly on the floor, of course, Toph wasn’t one to  _ conform to ridiculous societal standards, _ as she’d put it. 

They were playing an intense game of Pai Sho, the board and pieces pulled directly from the ground, if the nearby hole was any indication. Aang shot to his feet as Sokka entered, a piece he’d been about to place slipping from his fingers.

“Woah, Sokka, are you okay?” The  _ concern _ in those wide, gray eyes. 

Toph cackled from her place on the floor, a disturbingly wide grin breaking over her face. “Ah, young  _ love, _ ” she called, singsong and mocking as she pretended to swoon.

_ Shut up, you’re like, twelve. _

Sokka ignored them both, instead beelining directly to his room, shutting Toph’s ensuing laughter out with a closed door and pillow over his head as he flopped onto his bed, face first into the gloriously soft blankets.

He didn’t notice that, unlike his friends, Katara was nowhere to be seen.

  
  


_____________

  
  


Zuko was hoping for a quiet afternoon in the library, after a draining morning with his ministers and an even more tiring -  _ though far more enjoyable  _ \- late breakfast with his crew. It was wonderful that they were home, that they were to stay until they had business elsewhere, but talking with that many people for hours in a row?

It was a lot, sometimes too much.

Which was why he was in the well lit library, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of well preserved, well cared for stories, the smell of ink and parchment permeating every corner of the vast room.

Then, the scary waterbender -  _ Katara _ \- showed up and sat down directly in front of him.

_ Why. _

He put down the scroll he’d been reading -  _ Love Amongst Dragons, he’d made the copy himself so he could write notes on it without being threatened by a librarian _ \- carefully, hoping this was a quick, easily resolved matter.

Katara didn’t even have a paper with her; she obviously hadn’t come there to read -- which meant she’d looked for him  _ specifically _ and decided to interrupt him and his  _ peace. _

Her canteen was at her waist, a fact he didn’t miss. She seemed to have an unconscious instinct to hover her hand over the cork at all times, a habit that gave his guards heart attacks every time.

In this instance there’s not guards nearby. He’d made it very clear, early in his reign, that if he could be left unguarded in any place, it would be in his library. When his captain had protested, vehemently, against this idea, he gave her two options: have the on duty guards relieved of their shifts or have them stand at the entrance of the library.

Captain Izumi had chosen the second option, seeing she could not convince her Fire Lord.

Zuko tried first to be polite, despite the crackling of fire rising in his ears. Biting the ambassador’s head off before she could get a word out wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Can I help you, Master Katara?”

The waterbender regarded him for a moment, her blue eyes boring into his. It was unnerving, to say the least, to be on the receiving end of that stare.

When she spoke, her voice was calm, measured. “You and my brother have been spending a lot of time together, lately.”

_ Oh. That’s what this is. _

“Sokka has become a good friend recently, yes. He’s very nice to be around,” Zuko replied, careful to keep his rising thoughts bottled up within his mind.

_ He’s very nice to be around, the cadence of his voice as they talked, his fingers threading through Zuko’s hair, the way he waved his arms and gestured when he got excited about something, the blinding grin whenever Zuko laughed at his jokes - _

“I think you are becoming more than friends.” Katara was still looking him directly in the eye, leaning forward slightly, steady and focused. She reminded him of one of those large cats, who hunted the mountains of the Earth Kingdom, stalking their prey nearly single-mindedly.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. What was he going to do, deny it?

He didn’t  _ want _ to.

Instead, he settled on: “And?” This time, his tone was sharper, not the professional, indifferent tone he’d adopted before.

Apparently, that was the prompt the waterbender had been waiting for, her eyes turning hard, her voice sharp and cutting, an undercurrent of anger different than what he’d heard from her before. This was more protective, less  _ explosive. _

Focused, a predator.

“I know everyone trusts you -- that they’re all buying into this  _ transformation _ of the Fire Nation.” Katara practically spat the words out. If she’d been a firebender, Zuko wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks accompanying them. “But I know how merciful your country has been in the past -”

_ As if he’d started the war, as if he’d personally killed the millions of innocents who’d perished in flames, as if he was somehow  _ using _ Sokka to get at her - _

“So if you take one step backward,” she continued, a hand resting on the top of her canteen. “If you take one step out of line, I will  _ end _ you.  _ Permanently _ .”

Zuko was pretty sure ambassadors weren’t supposed to threaten leaders of powerful nations, like she just had. He was also pretty sure it was unprecedented for a Fire Lord to be... _ interested _ in an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe -- maybe, those rules didn’t apply as much in this situation.

“I assure you,” he replied, letting the embers in his chest kindle and smoke with every word. He knew the effect it had, the gold of his eyes becoming molten, the raspy quality of his voice becoming harsher. “I will not hurt Sokka. I’d sooner  _ burn _ off the rest of my face.”

It took her back, his answer. He could see it in her eyes, if only for a second.

The waterbender nodded once, sharply. She stood in an abrupt motion, giving him the barest dip of a bow, before leaving him at the table, her footsteps fading between the shelves as she left the library.

_ Agni. That was terrifying. _

  
  


______________

  
  


Zuko found Sokka in the gardens, having abandoned his attempts to finish annotating his scroll. He couldn’t concentrate, not as his thoughts spiraled and hands threatened to shake, not as the lanterns in the room started to flicker, not as smoke rose in the roof of his mouth.

Chen had fallen in step behind him without pause when he’d stormed from the library, Sumi only a pace slower. Neither had said a word, neither had questioned his abrupt departure, just accompanied him outside, the distance between them growing as he’d strode further into the plants.

Sokka was on the ground, laying flat on his back beside the turtleduck pond. His form was dappled with shade from the tree, his eyes closed and breathing even and steady as Zuko neared.

He wasn’t asleep, one blue eye cracking open when Zuko flopped down beside him, uncaring of the fine robes he dirtied. His attendants had become used to his habits -- and he’d made sure it wasn’t too much trouble to clean dirt from the fabric.

“Hey,” said Sokka, voice soft, a hand capturing one of Zuko’s, his grip warm and firm as he squeezed. 

“Hello.” Zuko smiled at him, turning his head in the grass, the base of the crown poking into his skull. He didn’t care, he was never as comfortable as he was with Sokka.

The other man patted his stomach, a clear invitation that had Zuko wiggling and shifting until his head was pillowed on the blue fabric. He breathed a sigh of relief, content, when he felt the crown lifted, the band in his hair loosened, fingers combing out tangles, ever so gently.

They laid there for a minute, an hour, three hours -- Zuko didn’t know how long it had been when Sokka spoke, breaking the peaceful silence.

“Your uncle lives up to his title.” He punctuated this with a laugh, and Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle in return.

“Your sister is very confrontational.”

“They covered the ground efficiently, didn’t they?” Sokka’s tone was amused, his voice vibrating through his chest, his heart beating against Zuko’s ear.

“I hope they never team up and work together. We’d never win,” Zuko joked back, smiling when he felt the other man laugh. He  _ treasured _ that sound, those laughs. He didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t.

There was another pause, this one shorter, the space filled with rustling leaves and bubbling water, their breaths mingling, peaceful, as they just  _ breathed. _

“I love you.” He hadn’t planned to say it, hadn’t thought -- it had slipped out, his voice faint and slurring, soothed by the repetitive hands carding through his hair.

A hesitation -

And then -

“I love you too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Iroh’s shovel talk: indirect, threatening vibes paired w peaceful grandpa looks.  
> Katara: I will bury you and no one will find your body
> 
> I hope everyone liked this one as much as the others!! I tried really hard to write Uncle Iroh well -- I was scared to write him and fuck up, he's such a beloved character and so cherished by every one of us.
> 
> Also: Labrador tea is a real thing and no, it is not made from the dog. It's a plant (a flower?) and it a tea traditionally drunken in Inuit culture. I couldn't find much besides a brief mention in an article and then the Wikipedia page.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, what you liked, what maybe sucked. I spent the last five fucking days trying to write this -- I really hope it was good.
> 
> Stay healthy and stay safe!! Love y'all!!


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